Amplify
by Taiven
Summary: One of the Winchester brothers finds himself in the year 1689, a point in American history filled with deceiving lies, false accusations, and a deep darkness that leaves behind only ashes.
1. Prologue

**Summary:** While investigating a violent haunting of a small town in Massachusetts, the Winchester boys suddenly become tangled in a horrific tale centuries old. Both men must try to unravel the mystery surrounding a witch that lived in the year 1689, a time in American history that was full of overwhelming chaos and terrible deceit. However, while Sam uses the stories and legends of the witch in the present to determine what really occurred all those years ago, Dean finds himself smack in the middle of the story. Dragged into a past festering with deception, lies, and twisted stories, he struggles to survive as he must escape a fate he could never have imagined.

**Timeline:** Sometime in season 2.

**Rating: **T

**Warnings:** Bad language, violence.

**A/N: **I got inspired after reading "The Crucible" by Arthur Miller

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"_That old black magic has me in its spell,_

_That old black magic that you weave so well;_

_Icy fingers up and down my spine,_

_The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine_"

- Johnny Mercer

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**AMPLIFY**

Prologue

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Rocklester, Massachusetts

1689

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"Are you sure it's safe?"

The flickering flames of the fire scarcely lit the room, shadows playing along the corners and threatening to consume the embers.

"It is never safe."

The house was completely empty besides the two, only the sounds of night and the crackling of the fireplace competing against their voices in the silence that surrounded them.

"We have to stop them."

A tiny laugh escaped her throat as she lowered her eyes from the man's steady gaze. Peering at the wooden table top, a hopeless smile slowly turned up the edges of her mouth.

"They cannot be stopped."

The man let out an irritated sigh and she lifted her eyes once more, focusing on his face; frowning lips, furrowed eyebrows. He appeared angry, frustrated, and she reached out a hand to calm him. His expression softened slightly and his lips parted with surprise as her fingers touched his wrist.

The sound of hooves suddenly drifted to their ears. The man and woman sat still for a moment, all else forgotten and bodies tense as they listened intently. A short time passed in which they hoped the horses would come and go, but this wish quickly disappeared as the hoof beats steadily grew in volume, the animals and their riders clearly approaching fast. There was a sudden scraping noise as both chairs were pushed back across the wooden floor and the two made their way to the front window, drawing back the lanky curtains and peering out into the night. A winding dirt trail vanished into the darkness of the trees surrounding the house, but several small lights could be seen within the forest, dancing along in the inky blackness. Both knew who carried these lanterns and torches.

"We must escape into the shelter of the woods." She turned from the window and ran to the other side of the room where she retrieved a long, white candle from a cabinet drawer. Lighting it from the fireplace, she hurriedly slipped through the entrance that lead to the kitchen. "Quickly! Help me gather everything," she commanded as she disappeared.

The man followed her into the kitchen, the candle she held in her shaking hands the only source of light as she placed it on the table in the middle of the room. "Fay, we don't have time. They'll be here any second."

"But we must!" Fay replied, hysteria causing her words to sound shrill. She was kneeling on the wooden floor now, peeling away a wool rug to reveal a trapdoor beneath. "It is our only chance."

The approaching horses were much nearer now, the angry shouts of men perceivable amongst the din of the trotting animals. In only a short matter of time they would reach the house.

"No," the man stated sternly as he pulled her up. "There's no time. We have to get out of here _now._"

"But they will kill us if we do not-"

"They'll kill us if we stay," the man argued as he led her out of the room. By now the lights outside were clearly distinguishable between the trees, illuminating the owners who held them and the horses that carried them. However, the man did not care to look as he pulled Fay behind him, heading towards the backdoor. As they made their way outside they could hear the horses coming to a stop at the front of the house. A man's heated voice called out into the night.

"Fay Crane!" bellowed the familiar tone. "Upon accusation we are here to attain you, by order of the Holy Church."

"It is Morgan Jenkins," Fay whispered as the two ran to the edge of the woods as quietly as possible, straining their eyes and wary of dry twigs on the ground that could snap beneath their feet. More voices entered the night as the group of men stormed into the house and the sound of crashing furniture echoed from the wooden building.

"I hate that guy," muttered Fay's companion as they pushed further into the woods, the sounds growing slightly fainter. Branches scraped their arms and pulled at their clothing as they brushed past twigs and bushes. Fallen leaves and nettles crunched beneath their feet as they ran, not knowing exactly where they were headed but sure of what they were escaping. The voices behind them suddenly grew alarmingly louder.

"They slipped out the back!"

"They escaped into the woods!"

"Run faster," the man huffed as he grabbed Fay's wrist, drawing her forward. Hoof beats could be heard again as the two dodged tree trunks, the moonlight shining through the branches the only light guiding their path. Eager yelps echoed behind them and Fay looked over her shoulder to see lights dangling from several riders' hands as they rode on horseback. The trotting group manoeuvred through the underbrush, gaining distance fast.

"There they are!" A voice rang out, summoning an angry chord of yells.

Fay's breathing quickened into gasps as she followed her companion, trying desperately to keep up. "They- They have seen us!" she wheezed, stumbling on a thick root protruding from the ground and falling roughly to her hands and knees.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist as she was urgently lifted upwards. "Just keep running." Her companion's voice was gruff and his face determined as he pulled her along. Her feet seemed to barely touch the ground as she flew through the woods blindly, but suddenly she really was flying. Her entire body was airborne as she found herself tumbling down a steep hill, air whistling by her ears and wind whipping at her face. A tremendous feeling rushed through her body but it only lasted a moment before twigs and leaves were breaking beneath her as she hit the ground and rolled a few more meters onto level land.

Her companion came to a crashing halt close beside her, and a groan escaped his lips. "Son of a-"

"I-I think I have broken my ankle," Fay claimed, her voice sharp with pain. The man sat up quickly and looked towards her in the darkness. She could barely make out his figure due to the lack of moonlight now shining from the sky. He scuffled over to her, glancing in the direction of the hill as confused shouts reached their ears.

"Where did they go?" She heard a man ask, and another answer, "Down the hill!"

Reaching out his hands, he touched Fay's leg, moving his fingertips to find her injured ankle. "This one?" he asked, gently squeezing her calf.

She inhaled sharply. "Yes."

"Sorry," he apologized, realizing he had caused her pain. "Can you walk at all?" The men on horseback seemed to have stopped at the top of the hill, but she estimated that it would only be a few minutes before they found a way down the steep incline.

"I can try," Fay answered as she allowed the man to slip an arm under her own. She tried to stand but a stabbing pain encased her ankle and she fell heavily against her companion's support. She let out a gasp before stating, "I cannot make it."

Setting her gently back on the ground, the man crouched beside her. "They'll be coming soon. If you can't walk I'll carry you."

He moved to pick her up but she stopped him. "No, you will never be able to escape with me slowing you down. You have to run. Leave me here." He did not move. "Go now before they come!"

"Fay, I'm not leaving you here." The man's voice was firm and defiant as he refused to abandon her. "They'll kill you."

"They will surely kill us both if you stay! At least this way one of us will escape." She tried to make him see reason but he only looked up towards the rise again. The men seemed to be going around the hill, judging by the sound of receding hoof beats.

"You're right," the man stated, not looking at her, and she felt a rush of relief. "There's no point in getting us both killed."

"Then go now," she commanded. "They may still come after you once they have found me."

He looked down and locked eyes with her. "I'm not letting them take you."

The relief Fay had felt was gone as swiftly as it had come. "But you must!" she argued, her voice growing louder with panic. "There is no other way. I cannot walk and they are sure to find me."

"Not if they find me first," he announced confidently. "I'll tell them you ran ahead. All you have to do is lie here and stay quiet until they leave and make your way to a safe place in the morning. Reverend Garnish will help you. I can try to get a message to him. It's the best chance you have."

"No!" Fay cried in outrage. The group of men could be seen approaching from the left, their lights bouncing far away but approaching closer. "You will not do any such thing! Go! Run! Leave me be!"

"I'm sorry Fay," he whispered, and then he was standing up and turning away. Fay was too stunned to call after him as he began to walk towards the lights and their owners. Instead, a tear slid from between her eyelashes as she closed her eyes and remained silent.

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The man walked quickly through the underbrush, voices of the group before him growing louder with incredible speed. As soon as he could make out their faces he began to run - horizontally so as not to give away the immediate direction he had come from. The sound of his boots crashing through dry leaves quickly alerted the men and he heard their shouts as he ran faster.

After only a few seconds the horses were right behind him, the surrounding trees alit with the luminosity of the swinging lanterns and bouncing torches. "Get him!" shouted Morgan Jenkins from atop his giant black horse.

The man's chest heaved as he pumped his legs faster, but he was no match for the speed of a horse, and he glanced nervously to his side where a grey steed was running alongside him. As he looked up he saw Joshua Keens grinning down at him, and then felt the pain of a large object connecting with the back of his skull.

Tumbling to the ground, the man found himself scrambling to his knees in a daze, reaching behind his head to feel warm blood on his fingertips, a previous wound having been torn open. As his vision cleared he realized he was surrounded by the group of men, being the center of a small, tight circle. He watched as Morgan Jenkins climbed down from his horse and entered the space, standing before him with a sly smirk on his face.

"Well, well, well," he sang, stroking his black beard. "I knew it would only be a matter of time before we discovered the truth about you."

The man stared up at Jenkins, eyes burning with hatred. "Oh yah?" he sneered. "And what exactly is the truth?"

"Well, I am sure you already know," Jenkins chuckled. "You have been accused of witchcraft, Dean Winchester."

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**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter I

**AMPLIFY**

Chapter I

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Rocklester, Massachusetts

2007

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A plume of dust mounted from the sarcophagus as the lid was slowly pulled away, the cloud holding more than three hundred years of grime. Clasping his sleeve to his mouth, Dean tried his best to clear the haze from his eyes to reveal the figure lying within. Although he had been expecting it, the Winchester could not help but widen his eyes at the image.

While the body within the tomb had rested here for centuries, it appeared as if it had been placed within the sarcophagus only hours ago. The woman inside was completely unsullied, her flesh smooth and her lips holding a tinge of pink. She could easily have been mistaken for sleeping if Dean had not known for a fact that she had died more than three centuries ago.

"Tell me what your secret is," he muttered as he bent down to rummage through his duffel bag for the items he required. "And I could sell it to millions of women and forget about credit card scams." Resuming his standing position over the perfectly preserved body, Dean unscrewed the cap of the gasoline container he held in his hand, the smell of the fowl substance like a familiar friend.

Without really noticing what he was doing, Dean took a moment to examine the woman more closely. He wondered if she had ever been called beautiful, for although she was definitely pretty there was an edge to her features that seemed to leave her face lacking feminine delicateness. Her nose was straight and small but her eyelashes were short and her chin too strong. Her lips were full but her dark hair hung in naughty clumps around her face and splayed out around her head and across the stone slab she was lying on.

Apparently the woman lying before him had been a witch in her time of life. Her name was Fay Crane, and legend goes that when she had been accused of the deadly sin of witchcraft and hunted down by the villagers, she escaped into the woods that surrounded the town and found refuge within a small cave. However, her location had soon been discovered and the entrance to the cavern had been sealed off with her still inside. The air had run out quickly and by the time the villagers had returned the next week they had found only her dead body and one word carved across the stone wall. '_Curse'_.

Her remains had been hastily left to rot, her killers fleeing in fear, but some unknown individual had returned one night and had given the witch a proper burial before closing the entrance one last time. The funeral process had apparently involved a spell that seemed to stop her body from decomposing, and so it had remained untouched until today, when Dean had decided to disturb the makeshift crypt. It was not something the Winchester enjoyed doing – especially knowing that his brother was comforting a very attractive girl in town who had been subject to the witch's latest attack – but it had to be done.

Fay's spirit was incredibly pissed, seeming to have awoken from a three hundred and nineteen year long slumber to set revenge on the ancestors of those who had caused her death. Two victims had already been killed by the time the Winchester brothers had arrived within the small town of Rocklester Massachusetts, and one more had been targeted. Luckily, Dean and Sam had arrived just in time to break the spell and pull the girl from a cliff's edge before she unwillingly threw herself over. But they couldn't continue their record of perfect timing, and knowing this, Dean had set off into the woods where the tomb was rumoured to be found.

And now here he was, standing above the witch's motionless body and holding a gasoline container directly above the corpse, his hand moving slightly to tip it at such an angle that the liquid began to pour out and splatter against the woman's outdated and tarnished clothing. When he was satisfied he placed the container on the cave floor, still half-full, and lit a match he had retrieved from his pocket. They were all very familiar actions, and he could already imagine the flames erupting as he flicked his wrist and sent the match flying through the air.

Bracing himself for the awful smell of burnt flesh that would soon reach his nostrils, he simultaneously took a quick step back, preferring not to watch. However, instead of the crackling of flames there was a sudden loud whooshing sound. An intense light broke through the dankness of the cave, appearing to originate above the witch's open tomb in the form of a glowing orb, and Dean was forced to take another step back by its brilliance.

A woman's voice rose above a loud and deep humming sound as Dean held a hand up to shield his eyes. "You do not know what you are doing," the voice called out furiously. "Stop this now and you will be spared."

Quickly recovering from his shock, Dean almost laughed at the warning but chose to smirk instead. "Sorry sweetheart," he answered in a cocky tone. "But you're not exactly in the position to make threats." And with these last words he had already lit another match and was walking rapidly to the sarcophagus where he planned to throw it in again, a lot less confident than he sounded. However, before he could reach the tomb there was an ear splitting scream as the hovering light appeared to constrict, but then burst forward, sending a wave of fiery heat through Dean's body as he was thrown backward by the eruption.

In the brief moment before Dean connected with the cave wall he glimpsed the dark outline of a woman standing in the light, her hand stretched out toward him as if she were trying to pull him back. At the same time he felt a sensation that could only be described as every part of his body trying to pull apart, but the excruciating pain only lasted a moment before he hit the wall and a cold blackness overcame him.

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Sam wanted to curse his brother. In fact, he could think of several dozen foul words in both English and Latin that would be suitable for the situation. Unfortunately, he found it impolite to speak them, even under his breath, when in the presence of Jenny.

"I still can't believe the day I'm having!" the young woman said for the sixteenth time in the past hour. She was huddled at one end of the old couch sitting in a corner of the living room, her knees gathered to her chest and her arms wrapped around her long legs in a tight hug. She was staring at the chipped coffee table that stood in the centre of the room with wide, brown eyes, her caramel hair pulled back into a ponytail. "It's unbelievable."

Sam sighed quietly. He was standing by the window, eyes glued to the street. There were less than twenty five other houses in this particular neighbourhood of Rocklester – the town being considerably small with a population that barely reached two thousand. Cars rarely drove by, making it possible for Sam to believe that only a small minority of the inhabitants actually owned an automobile. Therefore, he would know immediately of Dean's return when he heard the loud and familiar rumble of the Impala echoing down the empty street.

Tearing his eyes away from the road, Sam turned back to Jenny. The young girl seemed to be fascinated with the coffee table, hardly blinking as she stared forward. Maybe she was still in shock…

"Do you need anything, Jenny?" he forced himself to ask, his instinctive manners not being neglected. He understood that the girl had gone through a lot in the past few hours, including almost committing suicide (if that's what being forced to step off of a cliff by an evil witch's spirit could be called), but Jenny's voice repeating the same thing over and over and _over_ again was starting to get on his nerves. Not to mention that he was already irritated due to the fact that Dean had not yet returned.

"A glass of lemonade would actually be great," Jenny said, interrupting Sam's thoughts. A confused expression consumed his features for a moment before he remembered that he had asked a question. Quickly recovering, he smiled and nodded his head, gratefully making his way to the small adjoining kitchen. He made sure that Jenny was in his sight the entire time, wary that she might still be a target to the witch.

His thoughts returning to his brother, Sam worried some more as he poured lemonade into a tall pink cup and checked his watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. He wondered if his distress was reasonable at this point, considering that Dean was sometimes late anyway and that a number of small and harmless things could have delayed him. 'I'll be back in two hours tops', he had said, but maybe the estimation had been off. Dean had never been good at math.

He wished desperately that the cell phone reception in the area wasn't so craptastic, if only to ease his worries as he began to think of all the possible fates his brother could have met while in the woods. Sighing heavily, he tried to wipe the anxiety from his face before returning to the living room with Jenny's lemonade. He groaned inwardly as he heard her utter, "I just can't believe the day I'm having…"

"Here you are," he said as he handed her the lemonade.

"Oh, thank you so much!" Jenny took the cup and held it to her lips, but she seemed to forget what she was doing as she slowly lowered her arms and continued to stare forward. Sam knew he had to say something.

"Look, Jenny, I know-"

"Will you stay here with me?" The words stopped Sam midsentence as he stared in bewilderment at the young girl, wondering if he had heard her question right. Jenny let out a sad, nervous giggle.

"I mean, you and your brother. I just can't imagine being alone in this house right now, and with that... that _witch_," she seemed to have trouble getting the word out, "still somewhere out there. If Dean doesn't end up destroying her, well, I just..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes never having left the coffee table during her entire speech. Sam smiled understandingly even though the girl could not see his face.

"Of course we will, Jenny," he stated out loud, and for once she looked up and met his eyes, a small, hesitant smile on her own lips.

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He had no clue how long he had been lying within the cave unconscious, dead to the world around him. He later estimated that it could not have been long, for Sam would definitely have worried himself to action and come looking for him if he had been gone even a minute longer than predicted. However, the first thing Dean became aware of as he slowly regained consciousness was the sharp pain at the back of his head, where he must have hit it against the rock wall. Something wet and sticky was seeping down his neck and he groaned as he reached a hand back to feel the extent of the damage.

That's when he noticed something peculiar. Something a little... _unsettling_.

He was naked. Completely nude with no sign of his clothes anywhere. Looking frantically around the dim cave, Dean could only see grey rock. Not even a sock could be found. In fact, it seemed he was alone in the cave. Little miss witch had disappeared as well, along with her makeshift sarcophagus and the word '_Curse_' that had been previously scrawled across the wall in thick, clumsy letters. He instantly wondered if this was the same cave he had been knocked unconscious in.

His doubt disappeared quickly, for it had to be. It was the same shape and size, and through the dimness he could make out the trickling stream flowing in a crevice he had noticed earlier. There was the long crack running down the far wall in the rough form of an S, just as it had before, and here was the protruding rock he had stumbled over upon entering the cavern. Everything was similar but for a few missing pieces: the witch, her tomb, and most curiously, his clothes.

"Damn witch…" Dean grumbled as he stood up, the gash on his head somehow unimportant when faced with this new dilemma. He tried to remember exactly what had happened before he had awoken on the floor of the cave. He recalled pouring gasoline on the witch's body and then lighting a match. He had thrown it then, a simple lazy flick of his wrist, and he had watched as it had sailed through the air, landing on top of the witch's body and igniting the gasoline. The fire had spread isntantly and the body had been consumed with flames and then- _Wait._ Dean rewound his thoughts. _That's not how it happened._

That's right, because the match had never connected with the gasoline. In fact, he distinctly remembered a bright light and an argument with a mysterious voice, and then a second match never making it as a the glowing orb had exploded in mid air, sending a wave of heat and light directly at him and sending him flying backwards into the stone wall behind him. The pain in his head seemed to intensify as Dean realized that the witch must have obstructed his plan to destroy her. He should have expected a move like that. The truth was he should have been more prepared, but he hadn't expected something so… well, flashy. _In more ways then one_, thought Dean to himself as he glanced down.

His hunting skills were already kicking in as he began to go over possible scenarios in his head, wondering if the remodelling of the cave's interior signalled something important. A slight shiver ran down his back as another thought entered his head. What if he had somehow released Fay, not only her spirit but her body as well? What if she was now roaming around in her perfectly preserved body, having stolen his clothes to replace her own decaying rags? Dean could feel his face pale, for now the witch could be more powerful then ever.

Dean cursed angrily as he looked around for any other sign that could shed some light on what the hell was happening. Now Dean had been left in the middle of the forest without clothes, without any sort of weapon, without a cell phone – even though the reception around here was craptastic anyway– , and without his dignity. What had once seemed like a quick "get in, get out" job had now twisted itself into a nasty prank. A prank that could easily end in the loss of innocent lives if Dean had, in fact, fully released Fay Crane.

"Great," he sighed, pursing his lips in mock acceptance. "Just great." Now he would have to make the long journey back to the road where he had left his car, assuming it was still there, and he would have to do so without clothes on. This fact wouldn't have bothered him much, considering none of the locals were too fond of this forest anyway, if the temperature had not been below zero. Rocklester had been experiencing a bizarrely cold winter when the Winchesters had decided to grace its inhabitants with their presence, and though it seemed warm enough in the cave Dean was dreading the frosty woods.

He knew he could always wait for Sam to come looking for him. The kid would already be on his way depending on how long he had been unconscious, but Dean feared that the witch would soon start her attack on the town. If so, Dean needed to return to back his brother up, and if his theory was incorrect, Dean rather not have to face the long lasting taunting that he was sure to endure if his brother discovered he had been outdone by a dead witch and left to fend for himself in the nude.

Inhaling deeply, Dean made one last examination of the dark cave and then stepped lightly to the small entrance. The rough rock beneath his feet made him miss his biker boots tremendously, and he decided that this was a moment he would force himself to forget in the future. But, as for now, he had more to think about then his discomfort. Coming to the edge of the cave's mouth he braced himself for the wall of cold air that would greet him, but was pleasantly surprised when he discovered the warmth that radiated from outside. His pleasure quickly turned to caution as his eyebrows cut downward in mystification. _This isn't right_.

Stepping carefully onto the prickly nettles that blanketed the forest floor, Dean searched the surrounding woods for anything amiss. His efforts only produced a pair of squirrels darting though the tree tops and a bushel of purple flowers sprouting from his right that he could not recall seeing when entering the cave. However, the ground had been covered in a light blanket of snow at that time too, and Dean had been forced to keep his hands shoved in his pockets in order to keep frostbite at bay. He didn't much care for the concern surrounding global warming, because this was definitely pushing it. There was no way in hell that weather could change this fast.

_How long was I out?_ Dean felt naked in more than one sense as he began to climb the steep hill that the cave was nestled in, heading in the direction of the nearest road. He felt increasingly edgy without the familiar feel of cool metal against the small of his back or the heavy weight of a gun hidden in his coat pocket. He wasn't in command of the situation – not even close – and nothing unsettled him more than losing control.

By the time he reached the top of the rise Dean found himself somewhat wishing for the cold to return, if only to numb his feet and stop their throbbing. There was no time to grumble about it, however, for he knew his younger brother could be in trouble, and he would never forgive himself if he allowed a couple of sore feet to slow him down. He tried to remember which direction he had come from, the surroundings incredibly unfamiliar to him. _Weren't these trees bigger?_ he wondered as he glanced upwards, quickly shrugging off the thought and convincing himself that the road was to his right.

As the minutes ticked by, rapidly turning into hours, Dean began to truly panic. He could have sworn that the road was only a twenty minute walk from the cave, but he had already travelled in each direction for twice that length. Soon the sun would be setting and then he'd really be screwed.

Stopping for a moment, Dean assessed his situation for the fifteenth time, but no revelations came to him. He had considered climbing a tree to gain a better view of his surroundings but had quickly discarded the idea once he imagined the discomfort that would cause. He had gained a new appreciation for clothing.

Just when he was about to collapse against a thick trunk, his feet killing him after having walked upon prickly nettles for the past four hours, Dean noticed a structure looming between the trees up ahead. As he squinted he realized that it was a house, probably made out of wood and easily blending in with the forest. Dean couldn't help but grin, wondering if his luck had finally changed and if civilization had been reached. It was almost as if he had been cursed, which was a much warranted concern. After all, if Fay had been released then why had she not killed him? Had she felt that she owed him a debt? Had she decided to grant him never ending bad luck and allow the wilderness to kill him? These thoughts wiped the smile from Dean's lips, putting him on guard as he made his way cautiously towards the house.

He noted that the structure was actually a log cabin as he grew nearer, which wasn't at all surprising considering that they had been popular in this area a few centuries ago. However, what puzzled him was that the building looked almost new. In fact, it could even have been lived in.

Hope returned to Dean as he spotted movement in a window, forgetting his previous suspicion and entering the small clearing that surrounded the cabin. At almost the same time the front door opened and a woman backed out of the entrance, a large straw basket cradled between her left arm and hip. She did not notice Dean immediately, her back turned to him as she had a little trouble closing the door while managing the weight of the basket.

Dean's expression turned mystified as he took this time to take in the woman's appearance. She was wearing a dress, but one that looked like it may have been worn by his grandmother's mother's great aunt. It was a rusty brown colour that hugged the woman's slender waist and hung limply down to her feet. What appeared to be a white apron was tied around her waist, a large bow hanging from her lower back. To top it all off, she was wearing a white bonnet that covered her hair. He wondered if she was one of those pilgrim people, but before he could contemplate the issue further she turned around.

And that was the second time that day in which he found himself staring at the face of Fay Crane.

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**To Be Continued**


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